His Finest Hour
by Malvolia
Summary: Inspired by a bit from an interview with J.K. Rowling: "Harry and his friends have their own history depicted on Chocolate Frogs cards. Ron will describe this as his finest hour."


The morning light fell across the Weasley's kitchen table, illuminating several stacks of letters the family owls and Hedwig had just delivered. Over the past few weeks, the stacks had been growing exponentially larger. Harry had recently put Kreacher in charge of correspondence, but as the house elf had taken himself off on an errand, the table was currently in a state of disarray.

Ron took a large bite of toast and reached for a letter made out to him. He slit it open. As he read, his chewing slowed and stopped. "Hermione?" Ron croaked uncertainly around un-swallowed bits of toast. "Harry?"

Hermione looked up from _The Daily Prophet _and caught her breath at the look on her boyfriend's face.

Harry and Ginny both turned from the kitchen sink, where Ginny had been teasing Harry that knowing how to best dark wizards obviously didn't mean knowing a proper cleaning spell.

"What is it?" asked Harry, an edge to his voice. Everything was still so new in this post-Voldemort world, and they were all in the habit of thinking the worst.

Face pale, Ron held out the letter, his arm shaking so badly that Hermione had to snatch the parchment out of his hand in order to read it properly. She breathed a sigh that combined relief and frustration.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald. Giving us such a turn over _this_."

"What _is _it?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione cleared her throat and read aloud:

"Dear Mr. Weasley,

"We at Flume Confections are most gratified by your recent service to the wizarding world. Your bravery and resourcefulness in the face of overwhelming odds are an inspiration to us all.

"As you may be aware, for many years now we have specialized in celebrating witches and wizards of renown on the collector cards we package with our Chocolate Frogs. We would be honoured to have your likeness join those of Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.

"If you are interested in our proposal, we will schedule a meeting to discuss the terms of our offer and arrange for your image to be taken for the card. Please send a return owl at your earliest convenience.

"Wishing you the best in all your endeavours,

"Mr. and Mrs. Flume

"Flume Confections"

She looked up. Ron's eyes were misted over, and a single tear was rolling down his cheek. Harry and Ginny were riffling through the rest of the post.

"There's a letter from Flume Confections addressed to you, too, Hermione," Harry announced, grinning. "_And_ one for me as well."

Ginny continued searching the stacks. "Where's mine?"

"Maybe it's not here yet," Harry placated her. "Or maybe they don't put you on a Chocolate Frog card for knowing proper cleaning spells."

Ginny slugged him in the arm. "From here on out, you're doing your own dishes, Harry Potter."

Ron said nothing. Slowly, he resumed chewing, swallowed, and took a swig of pumpkin juice. He raised the glass to nobody in particular, a faraway expression on his face. "This," he announced solemnly, "is my finest hour."

"What about when you won the Quidditch Cup?" asked Harry. "Or when you thought of using basilisk teeth to destroy Horcruxes?"

"Or when Hermione kissed you for the first time?" Ginny added.

Ron flushed crimson. He looked apologetically at his girlfriend.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Of course he doesn't mean that receiving an invitation to be on a Chocolate Frog card will be his finest hour."

Relieved, Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione wasn't done.

"Actually _receiving_ that Chocolate Frog card will be." She winked at him as Harry guffawed. Pulling out her wand, she cast _Accio_ for parchment and a quill. "I'll get started on your acceptance letter now."

"Ginny..."

"You can write it yourself, Harry."

A jet of water landed on Ginny's head. "Whoops," said Harry, grinning. "Missed the dishes. I really am hopeless at this."

As his sister and best friend launched a full-scale water duel, Ron rested his forearms on the table and watched Hermione write. "Honestly," he said, over the shrieks of laughter in the background, "the most wonderful person I've ever met. Or ever will."

Hermione smiled. "_I_ think we're well-matched that way."

Finest hour, indeed.


End file.
